


it's impractical

by fineosaur



Series: Arya x Gendry Week 2019 [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arya x Gendry Week 2019, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Renaissance Era AU, Sad Ending, axgweek2019, just for the au's sake, ooc Jon, ooc daenerys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-20 23:17:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20235994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineosaur/pseuds/fineosaur
Summary: Exiled from King’s Landing, Gendry’s forced to take to the road. He doesn’t expect to be accompanied by the princess much less have her naked on top of him.





	it's impractical

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: ** Just get naked & Let’s run away**

As a bastard, Gendry never saw the need to wonder about his parentage. His mother was _his mother_, she had died before he could fully remember her and his father was just some man who slept with her one night. When it was discovered that Gendry Waters, bastard of the Crownlands was actually the natural born son of the late King Robert Baratheon, Gendry knew no good could come of it. When he was called upon by the Queen Daenerys, he was sure that he’d finally meet his fate. By some miracle, it wasn’t his death she asked for, it was for his exile. _‘Exile’_ made it seem harsh, ‘sent away’ sounded too forgiving so he did not have a word for it. Every inch of him wanted to feel a weapon in his grasp, wanted to rise against the decree. He was not at fault for his father’s actions, he never knew the old King. It was when he spotted her, that was when he accepted his fate and conceded to it. She gave him a tight shake of her head from where she sat on the dais, amongst her family. She sat by her own natural born brother, Consort to the Queen. If a bastard could rise as high as he, it was clear that Gendry was a threat. Though that was not spoken that day, it was highly implied. He thought of her face, the fear visible in her grey eyes, the way she shifted in discomfort in her gown and the tightly bound hair atop her head. None of it was how it was when she was around him, around him it was all different.

He was given a gelding and coin, all by the good graces of the Queen to show that she was fair and generous. As he saddled up, he felt _her_ presence. The presence that always illuminated his day, even one like this. Gendry watched her come out of the shadows and reveal herself to him. She was in her riding clothes, this was the girl he knew. Her long, dark hair was braided messily, lying on her shoulder. Every inch of her looked more herself, a sharp contrast to the woman he saw sitting in the throne room.

Their friendship was an unlikely one, bastard blacksmith and a princess. He was in love with her, that much was clear, to say the least. Though he knew nothing could ever come of it, considering him being a bastard, his commoner status and the recent announcement of her betrothal to one of the many sons of House Frey. As she approached him, his eyes met her grey ones, there was a sadness in them, fear as well.

”I’m coming with you,” She stated bluntly, turning her head away to look anywhere other than his eyes. It wasn’t what he expected her to say. He’d expected a heartfelt farewell, the futile hope that perhaps they’d meet again, someday.

His confusion was blatantly expressed on his face before he even managed to articulate his thoughts. “Arya, that would be seen as treason,” Gendry took a moment to put his words together again. “I’m being, pretty much exiled for no other reason than my birth, if in any way they find out I’ve taken the princess they will surely take my head.” He explained to her, trying to get her to meet his eyes again. When she did, he saw the unshed tears pooling in her soft grey eyes.

”I can’t stay here, not like this. Betrothals, gowns and feasts, it’s all become so tedious. I’ve tolerated too much, it never should have been like this. My father, he- he would never have let it all come to this. _I need to leave,_” Now she was looking up, into his eyes. Her expression was desperate, _how could he ever refuse?_.

Gendry took her in his arms, embraced her because he too, wished circumstances were different. “Quickly, saddle up. We need to leave before anyone gets any notion of where you’ve gone. We just need a headstart on them,” He began saddling his own horse, eyes darting around the stables every few minutes in paranoia.

They had gotten a decent distance away from the castle before it was clear that they were being followed. Gendry felt the surge of adrenaline course threw him as he spurred faster. Despite his usual discomfort and unease upon horseback, this felt liberating. Arya was at his side, ever a natural on her horse as she raced faster. The both of them sped, knowing someone would be trailing them to bring Arya back. Even as their horses picked up their pace from a canter to a gallop, it still was still not enough. Whoever was on their tail continued to close in on them. Arya was the one who came up with an insane and yet equally brilliant plan. _”Jump with me.”_ She told him, swiftly dropping off her horse. Gendry’s eyes darted to the edge of the cliff then watched her rifle through her satchel for important items, his expression both of adoration and perplexity. Sounds of the rushing of the waterfall below them continued to drown out all other elements, making her his only focus. Her movements were hypnotic, everything was calculated and brisk. He gazed at her as she unsaddled her horse, caressing the animal lovingly before giving it a sharp thwack on its rear. The horse was sent running off in the distance, her attention shifted onto him. Her bearing itself told him to hurry up and proceed as she did.

It didn’t take long for him to strap on his valuables and secure his coin. Gendry glanced at Arya, her expression now hesitant as she gauged the drop into the doubtlessly frigid water below. He reached out for her hand, _they’d do this together._ She took his hand, her grip was a clear indication of her anxiety for the leap.

Together, they jumped. It was a lot less graceful than hoped. The ground felt unsteady as the both of them tried to sync their movements to push off properly. Falling itself was invigorating, though frantic. Coldness of the updraught bit against their cheeks and sent chills throughout the spaces between their clothing. Hitting the water was a shock. The freezing water was numbing as it made its way into their clothes and sent needles on every available surface of skin.

They drudged through the frigid pool, soaked clothes pulling and dragging their pace. Reaching land, their boots sunk into the moist earth. Arya’s arms were tightly wound around her person as she stumbled into Gendry. He held her steady, deciding against letting her out of his grip. She didn’t argue, clearly understanding the importance of the little warmth they would be able to muster between one another.

For what seemed like an eternity, they walked, trudged was more appropriate. It was hard to remember the reason for leaving the warmth and safety of the castle. That thought quickly reminded her that the castle provided a shelter but unlike her delirious thoughts, it was much like her current situation. Arya was constantly numb in the castle. Feeling dissociated from the warmth it once provided, that warmth quickly turned into the same coldness she was feeling at this very moment. The blue eyed man beside her reminded her as to why this was the better choice. The place she once called home turned into a prison the moment her father was taken from her. The brother she loved so dearly became an empty shell of the person she once knew. No amount of luxury or comfort would ever bring back what it once was. As a child, it was easy to play along with the expectations of a princess to a certain extent. Her father understood her reluctance to be part of the charade, her brother once did. Now the only person she felt herself with was the black haired blacksmith. She glanced at him, his thick, black hair was wet and clung to his head in clumps. He was holding her close, either for support or for warmth, neither of which she minded. Relief washed over the two of them when an inn came into view.

They managed to secure a room. The room was a haven, the fire burning in its hearth crept slowly into skin as far as their dank clothing allowed. “Take off your clothes,” Gendry ordered her whilst he stripped off his layers. Her eyes trailed on the surfaces of skin being revealed, breath catching in her throat as his strong, naked chest was bared to her. She opened her mouth to protest, closing it when her voice betrayed her. “_Take off your clothes_.” He repeated, his dexterous hands now unlacing his breeches. “You’re going to catch your death in those soaked clothes, _just get naked_. I promise to turn away. I will keep my eyes closed so as not to see for the rest of the night if it pleases you.” He told her, his tone a lot more reassuring than the demanding one from just seconds prior.

Arya watched as Gendry placed his damp clothing by the hearth then sat on the bed, back facing her. He was left in his cotton underwear. She started off with unlacing her own breeches, deciding this wasn’t what she wanted. Breeches set aside, she walked to where Gendry sat. Exhaustion was clear on his face, his eyes were closed, shielding the deep, blue eyes from her. “No.” She finally uttered softly. “I want you to see, that would please me.” She told him determinedly, now beginning to unlace her riding tunic.

Gendry looked up at her in awe. His eyes trailed on the legs that were exposed to him then up to where her fingers fumbled with the laces of her tunic styled, riding dress. The tops of her breasts were the first to be seen, he could barely believe any of it to be true. He could hardly breathe, now that she was able to pull the garment off. He watched as her damp braid fell back down and the tunic was tossed aside along with her breeches.

Arya was now left in her loose shift, the fabric was cold and damp, it clung to her skin slightly as she moved. Her eyes met his, his mouth was agape in shock. She watched his eyes close as she sat astride him, her cold skin meeting his warmth. He groaned audibly as she straddled him, barriers of their undergarments being the only thing stopping them from being one.

Her cold, soft hand met his cheek, gently. She cupped his face, feeling the stubble lining his jaw. He let out a soft moan at the feeling of her being so close. His eyes opened, meeting hers again. Gendry smiled at her, his eyes, blue rings, revealing only adoration and lust. “Arya.” He mumbled, voice barely cooperating.

”I want this. _I want you._ None of that facade from the castle, only your sincerity,” She told him softly, her thumb now tracing his lips. Barely a second later, her mouth was on his. The cold and numbness of her lips were quickly warmed by his own as he kissed her. Gendry held her close, one hand fisted in her damp underclothes and the other blindly trying to unwind her soaked, heavy braid. Her mouth opened slightly, allowing their tongues to finally meet. The both of them moaned at the contact, subsequently chuckling at their fate. Despite the gruelling day, he felt blissfully at peace.

When her hair was finally unbound, Gendry pulled away. He cradled her face in his hands, searching her face. “Is this really what you want?” He asked, deeply hoping for an affirmative answer. “I will stop right now if you’re unsure.” He assured her, thumb brushing against her soft cheek.

Her eyes were fixed on his, her hands travelled up his chest, brushing against the hair riddled there. She held onto him as if life depended on it. “I am right where I want to be, where I have always wanted to be.” Arya informed him before her hands held onto his wrists. She moved his hands from where they were on her face and placed them on her hips. Her face inched closer towards, eyes still gazing heatedly into his. _“I want you, Gendry.”_ She told him, rocking her hips gently. His eyes closed reflexively, hands now gripping tightly on her waist. He groaned as she rolled her hips once more. Gendry moved one of his hands to the back of her neck, damp hair brushing against his knuckles as he pulled her down into a searing kiss. The only thing resonating in his head being _’I want you, Gendry.’_

Soon enough her shift was shed and she was laid down on the bed on her back. Gendry’s touches and kisses were filled with admiration, all sending her core aflutter. His lips were on her neck as his hands trailed on her stomach, travelling north. His thumb brushed against her nipple, sending goosebumps all over her chest. Her breath hitched, wanting him to do it again. He lifted his head, eyes gauging her expression as he tested it again. She writhed beneath him, holding back a whine as he laughed breathily at her need for him. He kissed her again, open mouthed and hungry. His hand cupped her breast as he kissed her holding her close but making sure not to let her feel his arousal by her just yet.

Suddenly, Arya pulled away. Gendry, stopped his movements abruptly, preparing for indecision. Just then as he studied her face, in a swift motion, she flipped them. Gendry was on his back, staring back in reverence at the girl astride him. She looked down at him, beaming at her little stunt. His hands trailed up her stomach to cup her breasts once more, eyes still on her. For a moment she held his hands in place with her own, then she pried them off. She still held his hands but now she was placing them outspread on his sides as she leaned down.

Their mouths were on each other once more, this time he was unable to touch her. His wrists were restrained in her grasp. He lifted his head, trying to make as little distance between the two of them. Arya’s grip loosened for a moment, giving him an opening to release himself. Gendry’s once bound hands were now on her, one on her neck pulling her lips closer to his and the other gripping her waist trying to create more friction between the two of them as she shifted on his lap. He felt her test rolling her hips on his lap. Gendry threw his head back, groaning at the feeling of her grinding against his length. He was delighted by her curiosity as her hand delved into his underwear, taking him in his hand. The feeling of her proximity was overwhelming. He stopped her, holding onto her wrist, deciding her pleasure was of more importance.

”I want you to enjoy this,” He told her as he slowly flipped them over once more. His hands trailed down her body, his touch warming up every inch of her. Gendry’s lips were on her neck, the stubble on his jaw grazed roughly against her throat. It felt glorious. Her fingers knotted themselves in his hair, back arching as his lips moved to her chest. His path continued, his tongue circling her nipple made her pull his hair tighter. Arya let out a little gasp when he lightly bit the flesh of her breast, her sound sent his eyes up to look at her, maintaining eye contact as he tested it again. This time she moaned, eyes fluttering closed but the deep blue eyes were still visible behind her lids.

”More,” Arya whispered. He didn’t hear her. “Gendry. _More._” She articulated.

”Anything for you, milady,” Gendry moved further south, before continuing, his eyes were on hers. A pleasant shiver passed through her as she felt his warm breath against the moisture that gathered at the apex of her thighs. She felt the grip of his rough hands bending her one leg, all his movements were slow and fervid. When his mouth finally found her core, Arya threw her head back. She forced herself to look into the eyes that were watching her from her lower body. Her hand fisted his thick, black hair and the other thrown above her head, trying to grip the bed below them. Gendry slipped a finger into her, drawing out a loud moan from her. Closing her eyes and arching her back, Arya moaned his name. Her sounds if spurring him on, made him insert another finger into her, his mouth and tongue continuing their movements on her nub. The curl of his fingers sent her off the edge, she felt her walls flutter, the intensity his motions brought, increased tenfold. Gendry laid beside her, holding her close. His own needs were forgotten when the both of them began feeling the gruelling day’s efforts finally take its toll. Arya curled up in his arms, the last thoughts being her damp hair clung to his skin before he drifted off.

Neither of them would be able to tell how long they slept. How long they were at peace in each other’s arms before it all crumbled. The frayed seams of Gendry’s life had finally come apart when he was awaken by a loud thud on the wooden door to their room. Followed by another, louder one. The third vibration managed to wake Arya up as well, fear was prevalent in both their expressions. Ultimately, the door came apart from its hinges, long planks of wood still hung to the wall.

It was foolish of him, of either of them, to believe they were away from it all. That perhaps his _exile_ wouldn’t be so barren, that her betrothal would be forgotten. It was clear that their monarch did not share their thoughts. Gendry was a threat, someone who lessened the stability of Queen Daenerys’s rule. Arya was merely a pawn to provide a way to facilitate trade throughout the kingdoms, the Freys held the crossing, marriage was the only way to solidify that peace.

When the guards came in, they immediately grabbed Gendry. The force at which he was dragged off the bed, made him dizzy, his head went foggy. When his eyes began seeing again, he saw a guard attempting to wrap a cloak around a crying Arya. She thrashed, striking the man before reaching for the sword sheathed in his scabbard. The shock of a guard’s fist meeting his abdomen cleared his head slightly. His ears adjusted to the commotion.

”JON! This isn’t fair. You cannot do this!” He heard Arya scream, tears flowed down her face steadily. Gendry’s head lifted at the sound of her screeching. He watched as Lord Jon held her in a cloak, her hands were fisted tightly in her brother’s expensive clothing. Jon’s face was motionless as he watched the limp girl in his arms. Gendry felt a little bit of relief when he saw Jon caress Arya’s unbound hair. The sound of the steel in her hand chime as it hit the floor, followed in the subsequent blow Gendry felt as a guard struck him in the face. His head felt heavy and unattached as he struggled to hold it up. He saw flashes of Jon approaching him, Arya was attached to his arm, trying to pull him away. She didn’t succeed in preventing the abuse Jon let onto him.

Gendry didn’t remember how many blows he took before his body went limp, he did not remember how he was brought to the small dark cell he woke up in. He did, however, remember every scream, every attempt to stop his torture that came out of Arya. This was it, he thought. This would be when his life would come to its end. He mourned for his love, the woman he finally managed to hold in his arms. He remembered the way her lips felt against his, the way her hands felt as she explored his skin. Gendry was thankful he had managed to have a few moments of peace with her. And if his soul would ascend, it would ascend in peace as well, those were the moments he’d choose to replay in his final hours. None of the screams, none of the failed attempts she had to make her arms cooperate with the longsword in her arms.

Cold and hard were the walls as he threw his head back. His body felt sore and numb when the guards came back. He felt dissociated from his oneself when he felt them drag him out of the cell. Legs barely supporting him as he stumbled to meet their fast pace. They shoved him roughly against a wall in the hallway, throwing clothing at him, asking him to get dressed.

”Where are you taking me,” Gendry asked them, feeling his bruised lips ache as he articulated.

”We were told not to tell you anything, raper,” One of the guards responded rudely.

Gendry remained silent for a moment, trying not to seethe at the jab. “Doesn’t seem to stop you.”

”You’re to be trialled and punished, this morn itself,” The other guard said, his voice sounding more boyish and forgiving.

Pulling on the breeches he was given, Gendry nodded. _Today was his last day_, he thought. He was sure he’d be executed. The trial was merely a formality.

Once dressed, the guards attached heavy metal cuffs to Gendry’s wrists. A leather collar was attached to his neck, by which the guards pulled him on a rope. It felt humiliating, to be reined and directed like a cattle up for slaughter. Gendry reminded himself to be calm, to think of Arya, to go through with this in a manner which would not make this situation any worse for her. He did not want her to see him, chained, bruised and bloodied.

The trial itself went by quickly. They had witnesses who stated they had seen Gendry force Arya off a cliff. Witnesses that professed to seeing Arya restrained, naked, in Gendry’s grasp. It was all forced and staged, he had no control over it. This was convenient for the Queen, she’d be rid of the bastard and no one would bat an eye at the loss of the man who was _lustful and gluttonous, just like his father._

As he was being dragged out of the court, he heard a familiar voice. “Gendry.”

Her voice warmed his core, he was happy to keep the way his name sounded from her lips, safe in his mind. Gendry turned into the direction of the voice, seeing the dark haired girl weave her way through the guards and to him.

Arya clung to his doublet, her knuckles were bruised and raw as they held onto his clothing. He felt her lips on his, she kissed him, as if her life depended on it. “I love you,” She whispered. He looked into her grey eyes, his vision blurred from the onslaught of his tears. He watched her the stream of her own tears roll down her cheeks. He felt her tug onto him as she was being pried off him by his guards.

”I love you,” He shouted as he was escorted away from her. “I always have.”

Gendry’s head was locked in a position where she was visible to him. He watched her thrash against the castle guards and her brother who held her back. Turning his head and closing his eyes, he thought of the warmth of the inn. The smooth feeling of her skin under his rough hands. _In another life, we could run away, perhaps be naked again._ This life was meeting its imminent end and the only image he saw in his closed lids was the grey eyes, the dark messy hair and the boots covered in mud.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!  
monday, august 12th - Marry Me Now - **“smith’s apprentice or lord”**  
tuesday, august 13th - Reunion - **“dimly lit, deep blue ice”**  
wednesday, august 14th - Just Get Naked & Let’s Run Away - **“it’s impractical”**  
thursday, august 15th - Don’t Lie to Me -** “homesick”**  
friday, august 16th - I’ll Be There - **“calm as still water”**  
saturday, august 17th - Because I Can - **“i couldn’t utter my love when it counted”**  
follow me on my tumblr  
\- fineosaur


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